


We Don't Need No One (To Tell Us Who To Be)

by WalkOnThroughARedParade



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Ambiguously Underage, F/M, Henry is 17, I am proooooouuuuuuuuuuuud, I get that in America he would be underage for all the implied sex they've been having, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkOnThroughARedParade/pseuds/WalkOnThroughARedParade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'There must be something in his face that finally gets through to Neal, because he stops; shuts his mouth and waits for Henry to continue.</p>
<p>And oh, he does.'</p>
<p>Or: The Four Times Henry Tried To Explain His Relationship, And The One Time Someone Actually Listened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Need No One (To Tell Us Who To Be)

Henry only ever tries to explain his relationship to each of the important people in his life once; once for Emma, once for Regina, Neal, David, and lastly Mary Margaret.

1.

He sits down with Emma in Granny's diner, sat across from her and looking down at his mug of hot chocolate so he doesn't have to study the lines of disproval written across her forehead.

His family has only known for three days; he's been staying with Granny and Ruby since they found out.

He tries several times to start talking, looking up and opening his mouth and then looking down quickly when he meets hard eyes and the tightness to the corners of her mouth; before he sighs, and scrubs his hand back through his hair in a gesture he's picked up from Felix.

"I love them." He speaks the words to his drink, an admission, confession, declaration of guilt; and when he looks up Emma's eyes have softened.

Henry can see her carefully organised list of why the people he has given his heart to are Bad For Him written across her face, can see her steel herself to recite every bullet point; but he cuts over her before she can.

"Please don't. I _love them_. Nothing you can say is going to change that." He watches the muscles in her jaw work as she clenches her teeth; before all the breath rushes out of her.

"Okay, kid. I get it. But I've _been_ where you are-" He cuts over her again, and it's Henry's turn to retreat behind hard eyes, fingers tight on the edge of the table.

"No you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't be trying to convince me this is a mistake. It's not. I _know_ it's not." He pushes to his feet, abandoning his mug and heading for the door; and all the tension seems to slide out of his shoulders when he sees who's stood there, leaning against the door frame.

Peter Pan is intimidating even having spent the last five years fighting for 'good', even dressed down in jeans and a shirt, even in Granny's diner which is manned by a werewolf, and all Granny's customers are watching him with eyes that are almost suspicious.

Henry almost falls into him, and Peter wraps an arm securely around his shoulders. He presses his face to the top of Henry's head, nose buried in his hair; and Henry _breathes_.

"Everything okay, love?" Henry hums against his throat, and Peter grins into his hair; and neither of them see the pensive, troubled expression on Emma's face as she watches them leave.

2.

Regina is Regina, and so Henry sits across from her in Storybrooke's fanciest restaurant, three empty chairs and ten years of being treated like a possession sat between them.

It has been two weeks.

He knows she will be _vicious_ ; that where Emma let him talk, treated him like the seventeen year old boy he is, like he's fought realm-jumping dragons and harnessed his magic and like a boy on the verge of adulthood, _like the teenager he_ _is_ , Regina will only see the eleven year old who was kidnapped by Greg and Tamara and will force her thoughts onto him. She will be unrelenting and firm and refuse to take no for an answer, and he will go home and probably cry; because of all the members of his family, it is only Regina who has the power to really cut deep with her words, with the disproving set to her mouth and cold eyes.

He can see her building herself up to begin, wine list barely glanced at and the significant, disproving look at the empty seats having been taken not long after they'd sat down.

And then Wendy Darling sweeps into the room, beautiful in dark blue lace and dark stockings and darker eyeliner, outlining the fierce set to her stormy eyes.

She is a hurricane of blonde curls as she moves to their table, presses a kiss to Henry's cheek with blood red lips; and her murmur of 'from Felix' makes the knots in his stomach loosen, until he can smile back at her when she sits.

Her smile is a challenge when she turns to face Regina, reaching out to take Henry's hand without needing to look back at him.

"Sorry I'm late. Peter and Felix would be here, but, well; it's a full moon, as you know. Felix is preoccupied, and as Henry is here Peter needed to step up and be there for him during the Turn." She glances back at Henry, eyes softening, and squeezes his fingers gently.

"Peter will call us if anything happens." The last of the nervous butterflies in Henry's stomach seem to fade with that; but they twist back into existence when Regina's voice cracks across the table, sharp and impatient.

"Ah yes. I forgot one of you changes into a wolf once a month." The sweetness to Wendy's voice could cause sugar rot; and Regina's smile freezes even more than it had already done.

"Yes, well, at least it's only once a month. I can't imagine what it must be like to deal with someone who's a monster seven days a week." She flutters her eyelashes at Henry's mother, resting her chin on a hand; and Henry resists the urge to bolt.

The barbs continue for the entirety of the meal, Henry shifting in his chair while Wendy and Regina get gradually less subtle as they insult each other; and, in Regina's case, insult Peter and Felix too. Wendy's hand remains on his, her thumb smoothing over his knuckles in an attempt at comfort, but in that moment he wants Felix.

He wants Felix, who would be silent but radiating disproval with every jab Regina made, who would interlock his and Henry's fingers and smile, secretive and proud, whenever Henry defended the people he loves.

He loves Wendy, he loves that she is so wild and fierce and protective, but he wants calm.

He wants Felix.

_He should be with Felix_.

Wendy's fork clatters to her plate, and the last of her feigned geniality fades so she can turn cool, disproving eyes on Regina, fierce anger creeping into her expression.

"So which is it, _Your Majesty_? Is Henry too young for all of us, and you should be making his decisions, or is he old enough to know what is and isn't right when it comes to a relationship, and should be ashamed? You can't plead _both_." Regina grits her teeth, and Henry shuts his eyes.

"I'm quite sure, Miss Darling, that you have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do when it comes to my son. I know what's right for him-" Wendy cuts over her, voice low and furious.

"You wouldn't know what's right for Henry if it _bit_ you."

Henry pushes his chair out and stands, shutting them both up; and he runs a hand down his face before opening his eyes and looking at his adoptive mother, expression hard and unrelenting.

"I get it, mom. Okay? You don't approve and probably never will. But I'm not nine years old anymore. _I_ know what's right for me." His expression softens, and he looks back at the table, frowning at it.

"I agreed to this because I thought I could show you that they love me, and I love them. I thought if you saw us together in better circumstances that when you found out about us, you might accept it, even if you never approve. I didn't think you'd choose a day you _knew_ would mean I had to come alone, so you could try and bully me into breaking up with them." Regina's protests don't even make it off her lips as he looks up; and he swallows, before taking hold of Wendy's hand, prompting her to stand.

"When you want to actually listen, call me, and we can try again." He offers her a sad, hurt smile, before leaving quietly, Wendy's arm slipping around his waist, her cheek on his shoulder.

They drive for the woods, and he curls around Felix before he lets himself cry, fingers buried in thick fur, tears soaking his ruff while the wolf whines softly into his ear and Peter and Wendy watch.

3.

Neal waits for him after school; and Henry's stomach drops.

(It had been his seventeenth birthday; he'd wanted to have fun with his boyfriends and girlfriend, to enjoy himself without his mothers arguing and Hook and Neal dancing around each other. The blindfold had been Peter's idea, of course, leaving him to walk around the living room on unsteady legs, hands outstretched and a grin on his face, following Wendy's giggles and the soft rasp of Felix's chuckles as they moved just out of reach.

He'd caught Wendy first, been gifted soft kisses that made him hum until Felix pressed his lips to the back of his neck, pulling shivers from him before he was turned and pushed into Peter's arms.

He'd barely noticed Wendy's fingers tighten on his hips, or the way Peter's kisses suddenly got deeper and harder; only knew that it was the _best birthday present ever_ , gasping Peter's name against his mouth around a moan.

The quiet exclamation of his name, soft and confused and _angry_ and from a voice he was severely wishing he'd imagined made him freeze and yank off his blindfold, even as both Wendy and Peter wrapped themselves around him more tightly.

He'd barely been able to make out the whole of his family, stood in the doorway with presents in their arms, around Felix, stood between him and them like a protective barrier, hands fisted at his sides.

He'd been able to see his dad's face, though.

The look of betrayal had both stung and infuriated Henry; and he'd fisted his hands in Peter's shirt possessively, not needing to look to see the smirk crossing his face.)

He wants to run; wants to make a break for it, take the thief-genes he inherited from both of his biological parents and run for his room with Granny and Ruby, or to the tiny, cluttered apartment Wendy, Felix and Peter have been living in for the last three years. He'd even settle for Emma or Regina; he just doesn't. Want. To do this.

Not right now.

Not when he's just sat through an hour of English with eyes on his back, with Grace frowning at him like there is something wrong with him.

It has been just over a month and this is the first time Henry has seen his father since he found out and he wants to bolt.

Instead, they start to walk back to Granny's in silence, Henry's fingers clenched around the straps of his bag, Neal with his hands pushed into his pockets.

They're the same height but Henry still feels eleven.

"They're just going to hurt you, you know." The words make Henry flinch, and he shouldn't be surprised. He shouldn't be surprised that Neal has managed to find the thing that hurts the most; the possibility that had held Henry back for months before he agreed to try being with them, had dragged soft-eyed looks of understanding onto Felix's face and quiet, sad little smiles out of Wendy and storm clouds in Peter's eyes that were directed inwards, _always_ directed inwards, he never blamed Henry for his reservations, for being worried.

A quiet, bitter, _vicious_ part of him acknowledges that his father has a talent for picking up on the things that hurt people most; abandoning Rumplestiltskin, abandoning Emma, and now voicing Henry's deepest concerns.

He hates, more than the thought itself, that he then feels _guilty_ ; because it's true.

It's cruel but true and Henry has been treading on eggshells around his family for _over a month_ and he is _done_.

"You mean like you hurt Emma?" He grinds the words out, voice cold, and doesn't look at his father.

He can feel his eyes, though, shocked and hurt on the side of his head.

"Henry you know I'm right."

The only thing Henry knows right now is that he wants to _scream_.

Instead he stops, and Neal takes three steps before he realises, turns back to meet the frustrated, _furious_ expression on Henry's face with a frown.

"You don't know them! _None_ of you do! And apparently you don't know me, either, because if you did you'd not be trying so hard to get me to give up on them. I _love_ them, and a damn sight more than you did mom considering how you _left_ her!" Neal recoils like he's been slapped.

"You know why I had to-" Henry refuses. He _refuses_ to stand and be treated like a child, because he is _not_ , and of all the people to lecture him on his life choices Neal is the least suited to the job.

"What I _know_ is that you let a stranger convince you to leave my mom to get arrested when she was still a _teenager_ , no older than I am _right now_. What I _know_ is that I am sick and tired of having the people who are supposed to love and support me _completely_ ignore me when I tell them that I love the people I'm in a relationship with, and I'm not going to break up with them just because you don't approve!" He can _see_ his words go ignored, can genuinely see Neal brushing over it, and something in him snaps.

"Henry-"

" _Don't_." There must be something in his face that finally gets through to Neal, because he stops; shuts his mouth and waits for Henry to continue.

And oh, he does.

"Don't try to recite their sins at me. Don't try to tell me they're going to hurt me, or that they're wrong for me, or I'm too young to know what I want. I am _sick and tired_ of hearing it! I _know_ what I want! I want Peter, and I want Wendy, and I want Felix, and you're supposed to love and support me! You're supposed to _be there for me_ , even if you weren't for the first eleven years of my life, so that if I _am_ wrong about them, if they _do_ hurt me, then you can pick the pieces up! You're not supposed to treat me like a child who has no idea about life, because I'm _not_! I've fought dragons and dark fairies and Lost Boys, I've been kidnapped and poisoned and almost ruined my relationship with one parent by going and looking for another, and for once, for _once_ I have something completely good in my life that I took for myself and you're supposed to _let me have that!_ You're supposed to let me have _them_ , because I _love them_! You're _all_ supposed to support me! And so far, _none of you_ are! _You don't know them_. Stop trying to tell me what they're like because I know them _better_ than you do." He's breathing heavily, and his father looks surprised; he can see it, Henry can see that he wasn't expecting such a reaction from him.

He doesn't care.

Henry Mills is _done_.

He draws himself up straight, and when he speaks his tone of voice is short, sharp.

"I'm going back to Granny's. I'm going to pack up my stuff, and then I'm moving in with my boyfriends and my girlfriend. If any of you decide you want to actually accept the fact that I am _happy in my relationship_ , then you can find me there. But I am _done_."

He turns on his heel and walks away, preferring to take the long way back to Granny's than have to walk past Neal right now.

When he turns up at their door, duffle bag in hand and eyes red but dry, he falls easily into Felix, pressing his face into the taller boy's chest, and Wendy wraps herself around his back while Peter quietly shuts the door.

4.

David regards him with gentle, sad eyes two months after everyone found out, when they're in the middle of a lesson in swordplay; and Henry throws down his sword and glares at him.

"Just say it." David sighs and lowers his sword.

"Henry..." He refuses to soften his expression, merely crosses his arms over his chest; and David sighs again, before resting the point of his sword against the ground, crossing his wrists and resting them on the pommel.

"We're just worried about you." The way Henry's jaw tightens shows just what he thinks about that; and David continues gently.

"They kidnapped you, Henry." His rebuttal is sharp, and his glare is quickly replaced with a frown.

"Neverland was dying. And Mary Margaret hit you over the head with a _rock_ when you first met." The was his expression quirks is learnt from Peter, and David has to shake off the strangeness of this new, confident Henry who argues back before replying.

"That was different."

"Why?" Henry's eyebrows climb, his expression challenging; and when David cannot come up with an immediate reply he forges on, tone harsh and unrelenting.

"They've never hurt me. Not really. Peter was always going to give my heart back, was always intending to keep me on Neverland with him, and Felix has always gone out of his way to help me; he taught me how to fight when we were on Neverland before it even _occurred_ to any of you that I might need to be able to defend myself. Wendy....Wendy was my best friend first, and still is. You're right, it _is_ different. It's different because when Peter had Greg and Tamara take me to Neverland he never intended to hurt me; Mary Margaret was perfectly fine with knocking you out to get away, and probably would have left you to be killed by the troll if she wasn't..." He trails off; and David's smile is rueful.

"If she wasn't Mary Margaret." He concludes; and Henry shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

The silence grows awkward; and David breaks it, eyes intent on Henry's face.

"You'll find your true love one day, Henry." It sounds like an apology, and Henry bristles.

"And if I don't want to wait around for some mystical true love who may or may not appear? Am I not allowed to fall in love, to be happy?" David's expression creases in a frown, and he shakes his head.

"Henry, that's not what I mean-" Again - _again_ \- Henry find himself cutting over one of his family members; only this time he is tired rather than angry, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Really? Because that's the message I keep receiving." The look he gives his grandfather is so very, very tired.

He misses his family. He misses Emma, and he misses being able to walk through Storybrooke without needing Felix's hand on his lower back, or Wendy's fingers threaded with his, or Peter's arm secure around his shoulders to keep him calm, keep him from bursting into tears every time one of his family members walks past.

But he won't back down. Of all the things he would do to have his family back - slay dragons, swim oceans, fight mermaids - he won't give up the three people who love him more than anything in the world.

"I don't want to have this conversation again. I've had it three times now, and last time...last time..."

_'For once I have something completely good in my life that I took for myself and you're supposed to let me have that!'_

Henry lets out a breath, and rubs at his eyes, suddenly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up with Wendy and talk about nothing.

"I just don't want to talk about it anymore. I'll see you later, grandpa." He misses the way David's face softens at the term of the address, heading away from the playground where they always practice; and he just manages a genuine smile when he sees Wendy waiting for him, woollen hat pulled down over her ears and head cocked.

The kiss she presses to Henry's mouth is soft and warm and tastes like Peter; and he breathes, smiles, makes it through another day that ends with Felix wrapped around his back and Wendy nosing at his throat and Peter carding his fingers through his hair, eyes full of stars as he grins at him.

~

Mary Margaret sets a hot chocolate down in front of him the day after his conversation with David, having claimed a tea for herself; and for a long moment she watches him, soft and pensive.

When she speaks it's not what he expected.

"You look happy, Henry." He frowns at her - he knows he doesn't, he's been miserable lately, since he stopped talking to the rest of his family, Felix has had a worried frown fixed on his face for over a week and at every opportunity smoothes his fingers over the nape of Henry's neck gently - and she smiles a little ruefully, sips at her tea.

"Okay, so you look awful; but under all of that. Under missing your moms you do look happy; happier than I think I've ever seen you." He can't help but soften at that, shoulder slumping as he drinks some of his hot chocolate; and Mary Margaret smiles triumphantly into her mug, before setting it down and lacing her fingers around it.

"I'm not going to pretend to understand, Henry, so how about we approach this differently. Why don't you try and explain it to me?" He blinks at her, surprised; and she smiles softly at him, before reaching forward to wipe clean the end of his nose with a knuckle where some whipped cream had lingered on his skin.

"Emma told me how your conversation went. David too; and it's not hard to guess what it was like with Regina and Neal. I doubt you were given much chance to talk in any of those situations. So you tell me how things are; what it is about these three that has you willing to move out. I promise to listen." She smiles at him, all dimples; and he wants to dive across the table, to hug her hard and never let go.

Instead he tries to order his thoughts.

And comes up short.

How does he explain this?

How does he explain Wendy, fierce and wild and full of energy? How is he supposed to describe the way she'll latch onto any and every cacophonous song he plays her, learn all the lyrics and sing them at the top of her lungs, stand on tables and dance with her hands above her head? How does he explain that her kisses taste like lime and laughter, that she is always soft lips hiding sharp and playful teeth? How does he put the bruises she sucks into his ribs into words?

How does he describe Felix, silent and solemn and so loyal? How is he supposed to put into words the curl to his spine when he sits in a corner of the living room, curled over a book, sleep-soft and engrossed in the pages before him? How does he describe the excruciating softness to his kisses, feather-soft and _aching_ with sincerity when they aren't consuming, devouring, drinking him in until there's nothing left but _FelixFelixFelix_? How can he possibly explain the way Felix's eyes turn dark and so, so pleased when he knows he's made them happy; the way he is always so, _so_ desperate to make them all happy?

How does he put Peter Pan into words, the impossible boy made of starlight and pixie dust, all sharp grins and sharper words? How can he possibly explain the lines of his face when he thinks no one's looking, when he watches Wendy dancing or Felix reading and looks so fond it hurts to witness? How can he explain the curl of his fingers on the nape of Henry's neck, playing with wisps of his hair and grinning into his mouth, his kisses sharp and biting and _bruising_? How does he describe the moment Peter melts beneath his hands, goes soft and broken and open and vulnerable, _willingly_ vulnerable, opening every part of himself up to the people he's chosen to love?

He can't do it.

He can't possibly put them into words.

And he thinks Mary Margaret can understand that, from the look in her eyes and the soft curl to her mouth.

Henry takes a deep breath.

"Do you...do you know what it's like to love someone...with your _bones_? With every part of you; to love them so much it feels like you're not even separate anymore?" She tilts her head, smile widening as she twists her wedding ring around her finger; and Henry flushes, ducks his head.

"Yes, I do." She offers gently.

He traces absent, invisible patterns on the table top.

"That's how I love them. I love them like breathing, like they're air and I'm drowning, and...and I can't give that up. I feel like if I do, I'll break open." Mary Margaret's hand enters his frame of vision, settling on top of one of his so she can smooth her thumb over his knuckles; and he glances up at her warily.

"Do you think it's possible to have three True Loves, all at once?" His voice is whisper soft, embarrassed like he's worried she's scoff at him - which, truth be told, he is - but she just smiles warmly.

"I think if anyone _deserves_ three True Loves, it's you Henry. And I think it's more than possible for someone who's slain dragons." Mary Margaret grins, and he smiles back at her; before her expression slips into one of determination, and she nods.

"I'll talk to your mom, and to my husband. They'll come around. And on Sunday you, me, and your significant others are going out to dinner so I can get to know them better." He stares at her, mouth open; and she chuckles softly, before leaning over the table to shut his mouth with gentle fingers under his chin, eyes soft and fond.

"You've read my story. Would I still be around if I didn't know real love when I see it in someone's eyes?" She gently strokes his cheek, thumb sweeping across his skin.

"I know that look. It's mine when I think about David; it was Regina's when she spoke about Daniel." Henry's expression crumples ever so slightly; and then he all but throws himself across the table to hug her, burying his face in her shoulder while she laughs softly and strokes his back.

"Only, let's make it Friday. Sunday is a full moon." Mary Margaret grins and presses a fond kiss to his temple.

"Whatever you say."

**Author's Note:**

> Avril Lavigne lyrics for the title, you gasp?!  
> Yes. Yes, Avril Lavigne lyrics for the title.


End file.
